


Don't Question It

by Ritzy_bird



Series: #Jeanmarcoweek2016 [7]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Implied Violence, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritzy_bird/pseuds/Ritzy_bird
Summary: Marco had no idea why he was in love with Jean, or why Jean was the way he was. But he found that everything was so much simpler when he stopped asking questions and accepted everything as it was. Jean especially. [JM Week Day 7: Spirit/Bones]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of jeanmarco week 2016, Prompt Day 7: Spirit/Bones  
> You can ask/message me things on my tumblr, crackerjacknotanon.

Marco never liked hiking, the wilderness, or anything else outside more wild than the town. Now it seemed like he was always there. As if he had a choice.

It was absolutely freezing tonight, and he wondered why he'd forced himself to walk out here now instead of waiting for a day off where the sun would be up and he'd at least be able to feel his fingers. 

By the third time he'd tripped in the dark, falling face first into all the dead leaves and rocks, he might've considered going back home. But it'd been too long, and what was a little dirt on his face? 

Navigating the woods was a pain even when it was bright out, and Marco didn't have anything but moonlight shining through the trees to even come close to helping. But he knew he'd get there, wherever "there" was. He always did.

For as hard as it was to see anything, to tell the difference between a branch and an animal, Marco knew when to stop when he spotted what he only knew as the right place. Somehow. A part of the woods on the darker side, too many tree branches above blocking the light.

It had been so long and yet Marco recognized the pile of of dead branches and moss that littered the skeletal remains of some animal over by one of the trees. A deer maybe. Marco didn't know, and he didn't care to ask.

"You're back! And here I thought you forgot about me."

The voice that intruded Marco's mind would've given him the shivers, had the cold not already been doing so. "I'm sorry, Jean, I know it's been a while. I didn't forget about you, I couldn't do that." Not even if he wanted to.

Jean stirred, and the dead leaves that had been hiding most of him slowly slid off the more he stretched. Yes, he was that odd pile of things, bones and all. It never scared Marco, because he knew who Jean used to be.

"I thought you stopped loving me... or got tired of coming all the way up here. You should let me visit sometimes." Jean's voice echoed throughout Marco's head, genuine but somehow sounding so apathetic. Like he had all the time in the world, like this wasn't something he should be upset about in the grand scheme of things.

Marco felt guilty either way. He had never waited so long to see Jean again, and he wasn't even sure what compelled him tonight out of all the other nights to make the confusing hike through the wilderness. "I still love you, like I always have!" Even like he did before.

Jean believed him, he must have, because he didn't hesitate to pull Marco into a hug once he got close enough to touch him. Marco didn't resist, although he did gasp at the smell of dead leaves. 

He always imagined that Jean would smell as rotten as he looked, but he never did. This? This was just the leaves that happened to fall on top of him. It made Marco wonder how long Jean had been laying there, waiting for Marco to come back to him.

"I missed you." Jean said quietly, his fingers scratching at Marco's back as if he were trying to make sure that Marco was really there. 

Marco tried to step back a little, only being stopped by the ever-rough embrace Jean had pulled him into. "If you rip this sweater _one_ more time...." He sighed, relaxing into the still surprisingly comfortable warmth that Jean gave off. 

"Oh really?" Jean sounded skeptical, "How many times did you fall over getting here? You're going to rip that thing apart all by yourself. And besides, I _like_ ripping it. I hate that color." He said mischievously, rubbing the loose fabric of one of the sleeves in between his fingers.

Marco stifled his laughter, looking down at all the dirt and lord know's what else that was covering his sweater. It _was_ purple, for a time. It'd been ripped, stained, and scrubbed time and again that it barely had the vibrancy it did in the past. How Jean managed to see it without eyes was a mystery Marco didn't care to solve. 

It made him remember for a moment, the way Jean used to look at him, with those beautiful hazel eyes of his. But that was before, and this was now.

Marco looked up at Jean's face, "I'm sorry I was gone for so long...." He wanted to continue further, to voice some kind of excuse. But he didn't have one.

"It's too cold for you right now, and it's just getting worse. You could've waited longer to see me if you wanted; I'll always be here for you." And there was that casual, joking tone Jean had. It seemed so unfitting for the way he looked now. 

How Jean could honestly insist that Marco wait for spring to see him was heartbreaking. Marco wished he could say the same to him, to claim that he'd always be there whenever Jean needed him too. But that was assuming that Marco had anything to offer him at all.

Jean read him too well, holding Marco's face still to keep him from looking away, "I love you." Marco believed him, the voice in his head sounding too sure to be anything but the whole and honest truth. 

Marco felt the need to cry when Jean leaned down to kiss him. God, was he tall. Marco tried not to think about the way things were, when Jean was shorter, and the hands that held his face now were softer, but even now were equally gentle. 

There were no lips for Marco's to meet, just the disturbingly warm, hard bones and exposed teeth that made up Jean's face. He shakily reached his arms up to wrap around Jean's back, not even flinching at the feel of the damp moss and rough branches that were all Jean could count as "skin". 

Looking into the hollow eye sockets of Jean's face, Marco nearly choked as he inhaled sharply, trying to deny himself any kind of crying over what they'd both lost. For when he could run his hands through Jean's hair and kiss the very real skin on his neck, and so completely unlike how he was now. 

Marco felt the rush of wondering how things were like this, why it had to be this way, but he pushed the thoughts back as he felt Jean's jaw part and his tongue touched Marco's lips. He had Jean in his life all the same, didn't he?

Jean, the love of his life, who was someone else once and now was just this grotesque, undead looking _thing_. Marco had no idea why life had made things for them this way, but Jean was here with him, now, and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> What's going on? Is Jean dead? What time period is this? I don't know guys read the title and you tell me. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it even for how different and ambiguous it is. Let me know how you liked it with a comment! Just one more prompt and we can kiss JM week goodbye.


End file.
